An Intervention
by The-Archaic-One
Summary: After a horrific mission, Jim sneaks into his First Officer's quarters...
1. Chapter One

Hint: _It's not what you think._

**The Beginning**

He had no reason to do it. None at all. After finishing a 72 hour horrific shift evolving a not-so-friendly bloodthirsty cult and so much breaching and twisting of Federation Law that even Spock was getting confused, Jim would have thought that by the time he had stumbled to his quarters, after all but being kicked from the bridge, he would have just fallen onto his bed and been completely out for the count- no questions asked.

Obviously Jim, being Jim of course, he did exactly the opposite than what would usually have been considered the norm.

After stripping off his uniform shirt and letting it fall to the floor, leaving the darker undershirt on, and not even bothering with his pants, he had fallen onto the narrow bed, grunting as his stomach landed slightly more heavily than intended onto the mattress. He had laid his head against the pillow; an arm slung above his head and one by his side as his eye lids fluttered sleepily, waiting for the state of unconsciousness he knew would follow soon. He had slowed his breathing and relaxed his worn out body and muscles, before finally closing his eyes with a sigh of contentment.

An hour later and he was staring very much annoyed at the ceiling, arms now behind his head as he lay on his back in a state of very obvious wakefulness.

Jim moved agitatedly, trying to become more comfortable though already knowing it was no use. He sighed. His body may be dead tired, but his head was still whirling with everything that had occurred just hours before. He wouldn't doubt if the landing party would need physcological counselling of some kind after seeing the horrors unfold upon a planet. He shifted again. Maybe he should suggest it to Bones he thought, though, knowing the doctor, he had already considered the idea. He rolled his eyes as he mentally saw his name at the top of a figurative list in his head, before turning onto his side to stare blankly at the room before him, lost in his thoughts.

He had never been religious. It wasn't that he was an atheist- just that going to church had never really been on the agenda when he had been younger. Between the illegal driving stunts and trying to get rid of whatever new boyfriend of mum's happened to be hanging around, he didn't really have much time. Mum, herself, had also never really instigated the idea of any higher power after what happened aboard the _Kelvin_. Jim would say that she was close to being agnostic- just not quite. For some people losing a very much loved person may have had them kneeling before a holy alter in seconds praying every psalm they knew.

Not for her it seemed.

Consequently, he had found himself- and just himself, during his childhood. No God. No Jehovah. Nothing except a scruffy blonde-haired kid who got a major adrenaline rush from doing simply idiotic things, he thought, recalling said past events.

And maybe met a few more police patrols than was good. Jim smiled grimly.

It was interesting then, with all things considered, that he seemed to more and more constantly find himself in need of some sort of reassurance that there _was_ higher power, looking over the incredibly shitty maelstrom of crazy and insane that he somehow always got into while touring the universe. One to make sure he didn't, quite ironically, go to hell- despite whether or not it intervened, though sometimes wishing it would. He sighed.

Then again that was faith wasn't it? Having no real indication that something was real but still believing that it was. He closed his eyes, before opening them again. In such a mechanical world it was surprisingly hard to have such a belief however. It seemed that the universe had gradually become more and more 'evidence related' over the years as the scientific field took the world by storm. There were the churches, with their spiralling arches and wooden pews, and the surviving religions of course- they would never fully disappear. It was just that you found less people committing to them over time. Whether it was for reasons such as his own, or whether most people were just simply content with their highly developed and technologically centred lives and didn't think they needed anything else, Jim didn't know for certain. He kind of liked the idea of having something that was untouched by human and non-human civilisation alike. Something unknown, unequalled and undistinguishable. There was a lure there, somewhat like finding a completely uninhabited and undiscovered planet in some far reaching corner of the alpha quadrant that almost radiated a purity of life.

Consequently, when you did happen to come across a backwater society on some very distant and previously unknown and unexplored planet which to all eyes seemed to hold an apparent pure and genuine conviction that _He _truly was out there, Jim had felt a surge of hope go through him.

Jim laughed humourlessly remembering the immense crushing of that same hope. The leaders of the society living on the planet Archous were nothing more but complete and utter raving lunatics, perverting the words of God and using his name to kill and slaughter many innocent people. Jim clenched his eyes shut and fought furiously to stop the images of hacked bodies lying in what had seemed to be a room straight from a hellish nightmare. The Ritual Room they had called it. His hand griped harshly in the blanket as his whole body stiffened and he clenched his jaw tighter.

He had barely got out alive, after the prophet's decided that he would please 'the God's' immensely. He breathed deeply, willing it to relax and allowing the dark images to dissipate to the back corners of his conscious. He had survived and for that he was grateful. Jim opened his eyes, forcing his stream of thought returning to safer waters.

...He had never even thought that his first officer would be inclined toward the spiritual side of life either. With the entire teachings of Surak he was pretty much set up for life when it came to a way to live- suppression of emotions and all that. It had seemed to work for the entirety of the Vulcan race for hundreds of years, so why would he need anything more?

With such an assumption in place it had then come as a slight shock, when entering the Vulcan's quarters a few weeks ago to collect some PADDs that needed to be read and signed, that he had seen it lying on Spock's bed side cabinet; medium sized and just slightly on the dusty side.

A Bible.

He had never owned a Bible. To be honest he never thought he would need one. Then again, he thought, laughing mentally, he never thought he would need much of anything anyway. Just him, his charisma and some form fast moving transport. They were thoughts of the young, he knew, despite the fact he had been only 19 years old when he had thought that. He had grown quickly since gaining his captainship he realised, something you kind of had to do when a crew of about five hundred constantly looked to you for answers.

The book was worn and anyone could easily see that it had been read and the pages turned, over and over again, backwards and forwards. The cover was black and cracked at the edges, curling slightly at the corners. It sported what seemed to be a green ribbon stuck out from the bottom, somewhere halfway throughout the pages. It was old as well. Near relic status Jim surmised.

For his First Officer however, apparently that didn't seem to make much of a difference.

It _was_ after all the words that were important, not the aesthetic appeal of the possession.

His shock was short lived and any more thought on the topic at the time had been instantaneously wiped when Spock had plonked at least a few dozen PADDs into his arms, sending him reeling, and prompting the presence of a migraine which seemed to form just above his eyes, as if in expectation of the work. Staring at a small screen for any length of time tended to do that to a person, as the words slowly blended into just a squiggly line of black and you're brain all but turned to mush.

Not cool.

Really.

So in all reality it wasn't until Jim was back in his room, sitting at his desk and staring depressively at the small mountain of effort and trying desperately to think up something _else_ that would instead procrastinate time away, that he realised that Spock was probably in about as much need of assurance as himself.

And _he_ hadn't lost a planet.

Or a parent...

...well, recently anyway, he mentally corrected.

Jeez, Jim thought, what bucket full of fun he was today.

He let his eyes move from the blank, plain wall that he had been staring at for the past ten or so minutes and glance instead at the door that connected his room to Spock's. He pushed away thoughts of his dad and the entirety of _that_ incident in the process, which he really couldn't be bothered dwelling on at the moment, as harsh as that sounded. He stared at the dark blue metal door which stood there quiet and cold, mentally conspiring within his own mind.

He could be in and out within seconds he surmised. Spock would never know since he was currently holding the fort, or _bridge, _while Jim was 'sleeping'.

He rolled his eyes and snorted.

Actually, he probably would- somehow. Whether it is that just as Jim sneaked in _he _would also- just walking instead of sneaking- or the Vulcan's much stronger sense of smell just happened to pick up his scent later on.

Jim stopped at that thought.

Did he even have a scent?

He shook his head, throwing the errant thought away. It didn't matter. What did, was that Spock _would_ know that he had been in the room, one way or another.

He also pushed that aside. It was irrelevant. He was the Captain, damnit, he would make something up to explain his presence. All but bullshitting his way through half the political meetings and conferences that he went to _and _coming out victorious would not be for nothing.

So he could...

Jim sat up, quickly- too quickly it seemed as a groan instantly made its way from him, his body protesting against the movement. He was more tired than he thought, Jim realised as a blanket of fatigue swept through him, and he had to force away the very enticing idea to lay right back down again. He swung his legs to the side and stood, swaying slightly as all the blood rushed from his head.

He noticed his uniform shirt and contemplated putting it back on but decided not to bother. It wasn't like he was going to be walking around the ship or anything, just popping into the room next door.

Yeah..._popping._

He breathed in, preparing himself and then moved into action, almost sprinting, despite his fatigue, across his room in a matter of seconds before he could stop himself. He reached the door which lead to the bathroom, pressing the command button, and slipping through into the small, dark room before it had even fully opened. From there it only took a few steps to cross the small area which held a small shower, basin and toilet, all of which he somehow avoided falling over or running into during his brief and blind journey. He stretched his arms forward and felt the familiar metal of a ship door. He slid his hand to the right to find the button which would open it and allow him access to Spock's quarters. He paused.

If it was locked he would stop. He would stop, turn around, go back to his own room and force himself to go to sleep, he swore to himself. He pressed down.

The door slid open fluidly with a _swoosh_, disappearing into the concave in the wall. There was no difference in lighting and Jim hesitantly moved into a room just as pitch black as the one he was exiting. He felt tile change to soft carpet as he walked forward, requesting the overhead lights to a dim setting as he did so. He glanced around when the command cast the room into a low glow. Nothing much had changed since the last time he was here. Spock kept his quarters quite plain besides three shelves which held numerous books and other ornaments from, what Jim believed, were previous missions. He also kept it almost immaculately clean.

The complete opposite of his own- something which wasn't much of a surprise.

Jim's gaze moved, slowly passing over a desk, computer console, chairs, bed -all Starfleet issued- until it reached the just as mass produced bed side cabinet. He smiled.

The Bible.

The book lay in exactly the same position that had been before and looked no different. Jim moved, walking to stand in front of the piece of furniture it lay upon and gazed down at it. Closer he could now see that the cover had a rippled texture and was cracked slightly. He reached forward, his hand hovering close to the object as he hesitated. After a minute of absolute motionless h realsied that he was being stupid- fire wasn't about to start raining from the heavens- and let his hand fall to the rippled surface. He curled his fingers around the edges of the old bible and lifted it from the flat cabinet surface feeling the weight of the text within his hands before all but collapsing onto the bed to the side of him and tried to unsuccessfully stifle a yawn.

It was heavier than it looked, a fact which for some reason seemed to hold promise. He turned it on its side and flipped through the book randomly, letting the pages coming to rest somewhere near the middle and Jim glanced at the small lettering, his gaze then moving to the top right hand corner:

_Ephesians 6:15_

He shrugged. Whatever. He wouldn't know what was good or bad or what was relevant or irrelevant. It wasn't like he was an expert at this sort of stuff. He just wanted to read. He didn't care if the chapters had weird names. 'Cause like seriously, Ephesians?....yeah, you couldn't get much stranger than that.

Did the Bible even have chapters?

Probably not. It was more likely psalms or something.

Jim just wanted to see why so many people in the centuries before his had been so involved with the words within. If they really did help to some degree even if, like him, you didn't wholly believe. Unconsciously he settled down onto the bed sideways, head propped on his hand, legs stretched out, momentarily forgetting where he was and began to read.

_The Armour of God..._

Well, that sounded _promising_.

_..Finally be strong in the Lord and in his mighty power. Put on the full armour of God so that you can take your stand against the devils scheme. For our struggle is not against flesh and blood but against the powers of this dark world and the spiritual forces of evil..... _

The words quickly swept him away, the strong and almost poetic charactered phrases, old and sacred within their meaning, sweeping from the page straight through into him. So surprisingly engrossed he became, skirting from verse to verse and back again, that he hardly even noticed when his eyes started to slowly close, heavy with sleep, and his head lowered, dropping forward as his arm became too tired to hold it. In the first fervours of sleep he desperately grabbed hold of the book before it could fall, hugging it to him, almost preciously. It was a possible link. A link to something greater. His fingers tightened around the worn cover and smiled.

_...Stand firm then, with the belt of truth buckled around your waist, with breastplate of righteousness in place, and with your feet fitted with the readiness that comes from the gospel of peace..._

Just before his eyes fully shut he mumbled a request for the time from the computer. He smiled lazily when he heard it, knowing that even if he didn't completely believe in God or was completely worshiping of him, reading the Bible for just over two hours must at least count for something.

_....Therefore put on the full armour of God so that when the day of evil comes you may be able to stand your ground, stand against the spiritual forces of evil in the heavenly realms..._

-----

Jim was brought into a state of semi consciousness when he felt the book that he still held grasped in his hand, move. With just a small part of his mind still holding onto a fuzzy strain of reality, the rest still being overridden by his subconscious, he didn't exactly know why such a thing was happening and was only certain he didn't want it to. He grasped onto the book tighter, pulling it towards him with a slight groan as his heavy laden limbs protested. His hand, he felt, was still caught within the pages, marking the spot he had been reading before he had all but unknowingly fallen asleep. The book stopped moving, and feeling it once more securely in his hold, he relaxed, breathing deeply, adjusting his body around the precious item.

It was then that he heard the voice come, clear and strong through his mid-unconscious state.

"Jim." it said from high above him, the voice low, warm and commanding. "Jim, you can let go."

Let go of what?

He didn't know, or his mind didn't want to....

....perhaps it was God speaking?

Jim smiled thinking of the holy lord sitting on some far away cloud with a megaphone. He tried to laugh but his mind couldn't process the action and instead settled on a contented sigh. He liked the idea as absurd as it felt. It was comforting to know that He may actually be out there. Jim moved his hand slightly, fingers brushing against the top of his current connection to an inexplicable but amazingly powerful force.

He knew Jim's name.

The thought made him happy.

A warm touch descended onto his temple, and he stirred against the unexpected sensation, despite the security which it seemed to hold. The touched expanded two the entire left side of face, skirting over his eyebrow and suddenly the presence, the voice was inside him, deep within his mind.

Was this Him?

"Sleep" the voice now resonated, dark and mysterious within his head. It was hard to resists the lure of such an idea, especially when the thought came again, even stronger. His fuzzy string of reality became weaker and more incomprehensible as the fabric of one world was slowly unravelled to be replaced with one of both sweet dreams and nightmares, lullaby's of eternity and songs of infinity.

He felt the book move again, but now he let it slip from his hands as the darkness swirled within him and he himself let go, following the voices' commands and plunging deep into the iridescent and tantalising whirlpool of the unknown once again...


	2. Chapter Two

Note: _Thankyou LP..thankyou, thankyou, thankyou..._

Jim gasped, his eyes flying open, and his head whipping upwards, to stare straight at the dark ceiling above him, panicking momentarily as he tried to discerned nightmare from reality. His chest heaved as his breathing came ragged for a few moments before finally evening out. He swallowed. He was not in the dark room. Not alone there. He bit his lip before it quivered. Nightmares always seemed to affect him this way. They were always so much more potent and strong than actual reality, ironically enough. It was probably because you couldn't control your subconscious, couldn't control what happened or what you saw. He was all but helpless in the darkened land of dreams.

A feeling he _really_ didn't like.

Since the age of about eight he had all but taken control of his life. Some would say that at that age, you didn't even know what control was. Jim disputed this. Kids knew what it was- they just didn't really need to worry about it because they had parents to do everything for them. It wasn't that he was saying that his mum hadn't been any good at looking after him when he was younger, just that sometimes she...lapsed, and when such a time came it was either get yourself your own food or just not eat at all. Consequently, he found himself becoming inderpendent early in his life; a feeling which, after awhile, he actually started to like. He _liked_ not having to do things when people told him to. Call him a rebel, okay, but seriously, why tell someone to go brush their teeth, when in all reality it was just common sense to do so? So _yes_, he liked control- it was a huge part of him, and he always felt particularly uncomfortable when it was taken from him.

But he wasn't a control freak by any means.

Jim sighed, settling his thoughts, forcing a method to replace the mass of coiling madness. He turned his head to the side looking for the blue wall to stare at aimlessly in the process.

He blinked...

...then instantly turned his head back and scrunched his eyes shut.

He breathed in deeply... and then out, before opening them again and then warily turned his head to the side as before.

The dark figure which had blocked his view of the wall the first time was still there.

"Oh," he said lamely, voice croaky. "You're real."

The dark figure, otherwise known as Spock and First Officer of the U.S.S Enterprise looked at him impassively before raising an eyebrow.

Jim cleared his throat uneasily. "Well, you know," he said in reply to the silent question, turning his head to look at the ceiling again, He raised his hands, palms turned upwards and shrugged, before letting them fall again, onto the blanket below him. "I had kind of hoped you were just a part of my warped dream." He closed his eyes again. "Really hoped," he muttered.

There was a very evident silence during which Jim ran his hands agitatedly through his hair and really, _really _wished Spock would say something. No reply came. It didn't look like the Vulcan was going to let him off easily this time. So much for coming up with a good reason, Jim thought cynically. Man, he was so dead. Jim grimaced and slung an arm over his eyes. He spoke, breaking the silence himself, the words coming out with a heavy sigh.

"Bloody hell, I'm sorry Spock; I don't have a clue what I'm doing." He snorted. "Not that you probably haven't already figured that out for yourself. I hardly know what I'm doing half the time anyway. "

Inside his head Jim was kicking himself. It may not have been a physical pain but hell; he had a good imagination, so it was pretty damn well close. There he was all worried about the guy walking in on him when he was all but snooping around his room, or smelling him, _smelling _him, of all things afterwards. Of course for a man such as James Kirk, such a thing would be much too mundane. And fair.

Oh, no. For Jim, Spock had to walk in on him curled up and nice and warm and_ asleep_ on the guy's bed.

Fucking brilliant.

And he sure as hell wasn't going to even mention the Bible which he had noticed wasn't weighing down his hands anymore, leaving him feel just slightly empty. No way was he going to set that possible fuse. He struggled fervently for a moment within his head for something which was least likely to end in fireworks.

"Please don't kill me," he settled on finally, moving his arm down to peer helplessly and pleadingly out from underneath it. It not have been eloquent, but at least it was forthright.

That got a reaction as Jim watched two eyebrows fly upwards.

"I do not intend to perform an act of treason in the near future Captain."

Jim snorted, and then started laughing. God, that was actually pretty funny considering the circumstances. Or his sleep deprived head was mucking everything around.

"So...what? If it wasn't considered treason it would be all steam ahead?" Jim asked, looking at him in mock surprise. "Spock," he said seriously. "Do I need to sleep with one eye open from now on?" he asked, not even knowing if the guy knew what the phrase meant. He then started to laugh again, now at the indignant expression his First Officer was giving him.

"I believe you are deliberately twisting my words."

Obviously he did.

Jim put on his best angelic look, eyes wide and pouting slightly "Who, me?" he asked and then, not being able to resist, proceeded to turn the expression slightly more seductive and winked.

The tips of two pointed ears turned slightly greener and dark eyes were quickly averted. Jim grinned wickedly at the reaction, and then almost instantaneously felt bad. He was the one who gate crashed the Vulcan's quarters after all; the least he could do was _not_ make him feel uncomfortable.

"Sorry Spock, can't help it sometimes," he said and shrugged, trying to look sympathetic. "Flirting with people is kind of a fact of life for me."

His first officer looked up, moving his gaze from the floor to his face. Jim himself had always thought that Spock's eyes were black due to them being so dark. In his defense he had never really gotten close enough to the guy to actually look and dispute the assumption. Now however, looking up at the Vulcan who was sitting on a chair next to the bed he was lying on, he could see slight flecks of brown dispersed within the black, drawn to the glassy surfaces by the wierd lighting of the room. Jim wondered, with a twinge of sadness if his mother had had brown eyes.

"I have noticed that tendency within you quite often, Captain," Spock said, quirking an eyebrow as Jim drew himself back to reality. "Though the action itself is not completely logical I have observed numerous times when it has seemed to serve as a positive trait on certain missions."

Yeah, okay, he could roll with that, he thought. It was definitely better than some other things people had said about certain characteristics of his before. But really, missions? Either he flirted so much with people that he didn't even notice when he did it now, or....Spock was complimenting him.

He would go with the first for know, unless he was otherwise indicated.

"Really?" Jim couldn't help but ask him though, still slightly bewildered at the suggestion.

"Indeed."

Jim's eyebrows rose when he waited for more of an explanation but none came. Well okay, if his Vulcan first officer wanted to play the one word response game and withhold information from him we wasn't going to get annoyed at that or anything. Instead he remained silent, frowning at Spock like he was some interesting puzzle.

"This is kinda weird, isn't it," he stated simply, rather out of the blue, the words intended more as a silence breaker than as any particular conversation starter. But then the statement got to him; annoyingly so. His mind could be a bitch in that regard sometimes. So, what did he actually mean when he said 'weird'? Sneaking into Spock's room? Falling asleep in his bed? Being found in said bed by actual owner? Or how about a bit of each just to round out the experience? He didn't have a clue. He was too enigmatic for his own liking sometimes; something he had somehow picked up from a guy with pointy ears. All he knew or sure was that he didn't feel as strange as he thought he would have been if someone had randomly come up and told him that this was going to happen and then asked him how he thought he would feel about it like some damn annoying psychologist.

Spock's only physical response was to quirk an eyebrow. "Yes," he agreed the answer just as plain as Jim's question and keeping with his one word stigma.

And what exactly did _he_ mean? And why was Jim even wondering? And why hadn't he all but run from the room when it didn't look like Spock was going to eat him alive? And why did he feel surreally comfortable with the entire scenario?

And why was he once again mentally asking himself questions when he already knew that he didn't know the answers?

He really had to stop internally monologing; it was becoming a bad habit of his.

_Shut the hell up Jim!_

"Captain?"

He grunted, unconsciously ignoring the title, still deep in thought. His head was playing bloody Russian roulette with itself or something. There was this memory that had been tugging at his mind the entire time since he had woken. It was _just_ there in his head, but for some reason he couldn't reach it. He could remember feeling warm and tired and particularly happy however, and then...then...

....then God spoke to him, he remembered suddenly, from out of a random side street of pulsing neuron tracks of his mind.

His eyebrows flew up. Well that was an absurd thought. It must have been a dream. Of course it was. A holy sentient being hadn't just floated down for a bit of a chat and tea. Jim somehow didn't think that was how it worked. It would be more cryptic and through lots of signs and things. But then again...

....would it be?

He struggled to recall the sequence of events from when he had fallen asleep. Yet...what else...what...

"Jim?"

The concerned word broke into his thoughts and at the familiar timbre it was as if a bright flash had just lit up the dark sky of Jim's mind. He shot upright, his head whipping around to stare at the half Vulcan, mouth gaping open. Spock pulled back slightly at his sudden movement and was looking distinctly startled and worried. That voice...it was so familiar. The memory which had brushed quietly and almost hidden at the corners of his mind slammed into him and he didn't know whether to cry with disappointment or in relief that he wasn't going insane. Or maybe just laugh?

Man, he was such an _idiot._

"You...you're..." he stuttered, epically failed to form a coherent sentence. Spock's gaze became even more worried as he continued to stammer around a few ideas for awhile. He gave up, finally closing his mouth and promptly slumping back down onto the bed, numerous different emotions flitting through him. He closed his eyes.

"...you're not God," he finally managed, mumbling into his hands that now covered his face.

Spock's eyebrows flew upwards, expression evidently perplexed, as if caught by surprise.

Nah, really?

"...I...am not," he heard the Vulcan finally reply, somewhat uncomfortably. Even with the distinct pause, Jim could also still here the confusion worked almost irremovably within the words.

His mind was whirling. Spock had been the one who spoke to him. Spock was the one who had told him to sleep and had initiated the temporary mind meld to do so. He remembered the warmth and security which seemed to come with such a contact.

Spock; his stoic, half-Vulcan First Officer who corrected his spoken grammar on a daily basis and fired the words logical and illogical around like he was trigger happy phaser; the latter of which usually was sent in _his_ own direction.

_That_ Spock...

Jim blinked and the corner of his mouth unknowingly twitched from the strength of emotion building inside him. His eyebrows lowered and his eyes squinted slightly as if he was concentrating hard on something or was in a lot of pain.

Oh man...

His mouth twitched again.

..._Spock_.

Unable to stop, he rolled onto his stomach, gripping tightly onto the pillow and burying his face within it, trying to contain the waves of unexpected emotion as they rolled through him. His whole body was shaking. It really wasn't the feeling he had expected to feel, but it hit him solidly. Strong and hard.

It was amusement.

He was damn well _laughing _and found he couldn't stop once he started.

Oh God..or rather....

_Spock!_

Jim's laughter doubled as he realised just how stupid he had been. He felt tears prick at the corner of his eyes, as the humour turned slightly hysterical- well, come _on_-, and then a tingly sensation as they ran down his cheeks before being absorbed by the material of the pillow. He gasped; trying desperately to breathe, realising the action was made particularly harder when you were practically eating a bed feature.

He felt a warmth blossom against his back as a distinctly hand shaped weight was settled there.

Rolling onto his side in reaction, Jim relinquished his hold on the pillow to grab, with one hand, his side which had started to hurt and with the other, grabbed the offending arm attached to said hand. Gasping in breaths, he smiled up at Spock who was balanced almost precariously on the side of the bed and looking down at the hand in more surprise than one would usually give such a limb. Jim saw his throat move as if he had swallowed, before looking at him wide eyed. Jim grinned.

"I thought you were God," he said in explanation, sitting upright and smiling into the shocked face. He laughed, squeezing the arm briefly trying to convey his amusement to his First Officer, before releasing it.

What he did next he just really couldn't help.

Spock just looked so shocked- though Jim hardly blamed him, _he_ would be too if positions were swapped. Actually, more so considering the guy was Vulcan and all. But Spock just looked so shocked, worried and even slightly helpless like he didn't have a clue what was going on- which in all likelihood he probably didn't- that Jim felt terrible.

And so he hugged him.

Which probably made everything worse, but at that point in time Jim didn't have a mind to care since he was probably only about two minutes away from being thrown into a room with padded walls.

He threw his arms around his first officer and held him, his hands resting on the warmer than normal back, his head buried in the hollow at the base of Spock's neck and chuckled as he felt the shoulders he was holding onto stiffen. He closed his eyes. Man, he may not get killed for sneaking into his room but Spock sure as hell was going to chase him to the end of the world for this.

Yet he really couldn't care.

Really.

Because for some reason that warmth and security he had felt inside his head when Spock had briefly melded with him seemed to still radiate from his First right at the moment, and with it came an infinite urge to hold onto the guy and never let go.

As _illogical_ as it may be.

There was a moment whereby Jim should have been self-conscious to be doing what he was and receiving no response, but didn't, and only tightened his hold. He felt Spock's long arms which he had trapped at the Vulcan's sides move from underneath his own as he did so, shifting as if to get free. Jim mentally berated himself, knowing the guy would be, without a doubt, uncomfortable- in the least. He knew he should let go, but just couldn't. Despite his laughter he still felt, somewhere, deep within him that cold lurching dread of walking into that room on Archous and seeing nothing but death; a sight and smell which clung to him like a chilling presence, following him everywhere. Jim would never forget above all the _silence_; the silence of dozens of lifeless eyes staring at him, unseeing and blank. He knew this and it sent a shudder involuntarily through his body. He swallowed, clenching his eyes tighter shut and hardly containing a whimper, holding onto the warmth for all it was worth- now for a _much_ different reason than before.

The movement beneath him stopped. And then the arms were being withdrawn quickly and suddenly they were encircling him. Jim stiffened at the unexpected movement, before relaxing into the secure embrace, resting his head more comfortably against the warm hollow, his nose skimming slightly over the hot skin as he did so. He felt the beating of a heart against his lower stomach and it was comforting; comforting to feel the _life _radiating strong and consistant. He sighed as the heat slowly burned away the chill from his body and he began to warm within....


	3. Chapter Three

Note: _I'm starting to have the feeling you can read my mind LP...hmmm..._

They simply stayed like that. Jim didn't know for how long. Seconds, minutes, hours, he couldn't tell. He didn't really care either. His legs had gone partially numb from staying in the same arrangement for an extended period and he also knew his back would have a kink afterwards for being in a slightly awkward position. But still, he didn't really mind. It was warm. It was secure. It was what he needed, and somehow Spock had picked up on that too.

And so they just sat.

They would likely have continued for who knows how long as well, if the command for Spock's quarters hadn't sounded, making the both of them jump. Jim looked up, over Spock's shoulder where his head had been lying, and almost glared at the door. He felt the arms around him being withdrawn, and already he missed the comforting heat. There was a pressure against his shoulders and he was softly pushed backwards, his own arms sliding away. Jim looked up into a black-brown gaze and sat there, shoulders slumped, just looking up into the dark orbs. They both stared at each other, human and Vulcan, understanding somehow existing within the moment. The command came again. Spock broke the gaze, and rose fluidly, moving across the room to open the door.

Jim let his arms drop to the sides of his legs, hands resting flat against the bed. He could have moved before the door had opened. Could have hidden himself away to stop whoever was behind it from seeing him, and easily jumping to conclusions- which they would. He could have more than likely....

...but he just couldn't seem to find the effort. It seemed like everything had just gone out of him in seconds. Like the wind had gone from a boat's sails. The turbulent roller coaster of emotions inside him was settling down and to be completely honest with himself, he was starting to feel tired again. His last attempt at sleep hadn't exactly been the nicest of experiences and he didn't think that it had done much to relieve his sleep deprived body. He may have to go find Bones for something to put him out. He breathed out a heavy sigh. _That_ would be fun.

So instead he sat, his gaze projected downwards, fixed onto the deep blue carpeted floor as the familiar _whoosh_ of an opening door filled the inside area. Light filtered into the dimly lit room as he heard a young and cheerful voice speak.

"Ah, Sir, you are here!"

It was Chekov. Jim instantly started to wish he had in fact moved. That seventeen year old, despite being a certified genius was one of the top contributors to the rumour mill on the entire ship. Jim didn't really mind though and simply overlooked it on numerous occasions.

Everyone had their hobbies after all.

"Evidently," he heard Spock reply, his voice about as exuberant as a train wreck.

Jim snorted quietly at the slight lilt and stress that his First Officer placed upon the word. He found it weird that so many people couldn't seem to pick up those slight indications which were placed into the Vulcan's words at times. It all but jumped out at him now after actually having to spend time with guy with conferencing and everything for missions. He was now pretty certain he could differ between his neutral mode and not-so neutral mode. Currently, Spock was throwing out 'sarcastic vibes', a fact which the ensign somehow didn't seem realise however, as Jim heard the Russian intonated voice continue just as happily and sounding not even the slightest bit offended.

"It is indeed Sir!" Chekov said brightly. "I brought you back the article which you gave me to read. The one on the warp collision factors?"

"Indeed?"

"Oh, yes, Sir! It truly is a fascinating topic. A very interesting idea about increasing the capacity of the terminal equilibrium between the two corresponding conjunctions within the primary reference unit which would be able to consequently expand the number of possibilities concer-"

"You are aware of the fact that it is only currently 1700 hours?"

This seemed to make Chekov pause and maybe time to actually breathe, before he started to talk again.

Jim saw the ensign shuffle on his feet awkwardly. "Ah well, you see Sir." he stuttered. "I just got off from the late shift, Sir, and I thought that I would just drop it off for you as you yourself, Sir, only just finished and-"

"I left the bridge and my shift just over five hours ago, Ensign Chekov."

Five hours?

Seriously?

How long had he been asleep for in here exactly? More importantly, for how long had Spock _not _slept so that he could?

It was not a comforting thought.

"Oh, I'm sorry Sir, I must have lost track of time, I am sorry, I-"Chekov's stuttered words suddenly stopped.

Jim wondered if Spock had decided to strangle him.

It wasn't a nice thought in any sense, but one which would explain the abrupt silence. The lack of gasping and struggling however seemed to disagree with that idea however. He frowned. Perhaps Spock had nerve pinched him? Hmm...yes, that would work.

He was in a rather morbid mood today...

"....Captain?"

Oh well, no strangulation or nerve pinches then- just the captain. There was a silence during which Jim's brain decided to click back into action.

Oh right, that was _him._

He looked up into both a faintly worried expression and a very confused one. He stuck a hand into the air, smiling tiredly as he waved it at the door and at Chekov's light brown eyes which were now peering around his First's blue clad shoulder. "Hey Chekov, how you going?"

The brown eyes got wider. "I am fine Captain. What are you-"

Spock cut him off, moving in front of the door to more effectively block Chekov's view of the room and, Jim had an inkling, he himself as well. He felt a rush of gratitude. He_ did_ like the kid; he really liked him a lot. Hell, he would be dead and Sulu as well for that matter, if it wasn't for him. That's not counting the many times that he had gotten the Enterprise out of almost perpetual doom and saved it's ass way to many times for it to be natural. Yeah, he definitely liked the kid. Definitely. However the exuberance and happiness that the guy constantly radiated just wouldn't work for him today because he himself felt about as lively as a wet mop.

Gosh, he felt bad just thinking it though and instantly sent a mental apology toward the kid.

"I believe you had a primary goal in visiting my quarters Ensign?"

Chekov's wide eyes flew back to the stoic looking Vulcan who was staring at him impassively. There was a silence during which, Jim guessed, some sort of an exchange took place. He sighed, stretching his arms out either side of him and then closed his eyes. Jim let gravity take him, and he fell backwards onto his back with a _whump_. He really should go back to his own quarters. He'd bugged Spock enough; breaking into his room, falling asleep in said room, going through his stuff etc etc...

Man, he really was the typical Goldilocks wasn't he?

He heard voices which were now muted, and then a _whoosh_ again as Spock closed the door. He hadn't looked, but he knew that Chekov would have tried to grab a final look at him, before it did so, a more than hopeless act when you had a much taller and very imposing Vulcan standing in front of you who should constantly have a neon sign hung around his neck that said 'don't mess with me' because the message was always to blatantly obvious in his posture. That silent memorandum had stopped countless jokes of Jim's towards the guy on a daily basis.

He smiled and opened his eyes to a much darker room. He could just make out Spock's figure as it moved toward the desk in the far corner, open a drawer and placed what Jim presumed was the PADD that Chekov had given him, in it. He seemed to pause for a moment and then he was opening another drawer and taking something from it.

"Thank you" Jim said simply and quietly, watching him, knowing that Spock would hear _and_ know what particular incident he was talking about without having to tell him.

"Such a sentiment is not needed. I understand that physical contact is sometimes part of the comforting process when humans are emotionally distraught." Spock replied, turning around, his back against the desk, hands holding something.

Jim snorted. "Gee, way to make me feel like a nut case with emotional problems, man."

Spock's eyebrows twitched upwards. "I did not intend the statement to be derogatory in any way, Jim. I was simply stating a need which seems to occur within all humans at some time, regardless of age, gender or character."

"Yeah, yeah, I know." Jim looked up and smiled. He watched as Spock moved toward him, noticing in the process that the object in his hands was becoming more rectangle shaped and distinctly more book like.

Jim's heart plummeted and he shot up from lying down.

"I believe you were reading this." Spock said, the corner of his mouth twitching upward at the reaction. He sat at Jim's side and handed him the item, who in turn took it, and looked down at the green cover. Jim felt his face warm. "I relinquished it from you before as you were bending the pages while you were sleeping."

Jim looked up into a curious expression, embarrassed. "I, uh, saw it in here a few days ago" he explained, swallowing. "I just...wanted to see what it was like."

He stared back down at the worn Bible which was now settled in his hands. He took hold of it by the stiff covers and flipped through it from one end, the pages flittering and falling until they all lay silent again at the other. "Sorry," he added just for good measure.

"What was your conclusion?"

Jim, not at all expecting the question or its abruptness looked up, confused. "What?"

"What was your decision on the subject of the text based upon your observation?"

Spock was looking at him intently, his dark eyes seeming to scrutinise Jim's face for any reaction. Gosh, he did that a lot, Jim thought. He was pretty sure the guy didn't know it made him feel uncomfortable, but hell, it sure did. It made him feel like he needed to walk on egg shells around him constantly. Usually when people looked at him like that, the general reflex was to put on a cocky kind of an air and just cruise with it. When Spock looked at him however, he seriously didn't have a clue what to do. He brain just shut down.

It was frustrating sometimes, let alone annoying.

"Uh..."Jim blinked, put off slightly by the intensity of the gaze. He also didn't really know how to answer the question. For one, he was still surprised Spock hadn't invoked his right to say 'don't touch my stuff' and kick him from the room, and two....

...well two; he didn't actually have an answer as he had only read a few pages of the book.

"I ...don't really know Spock" he said finally, stammering slightly, unsure as to what response he should give- a book review on the Bible? Religion had never really been at the top of the list of things to talk about with his First Officer so he was kind of in uncharted waters here. Warp drives- meh, security tactical manoeuvres- easy, personnel files- piece of cake, religion...

...hmmm...

"A very intelligent answer Jim."

Oh, thanks. Wait...what?

Was that sarcasm?

"Huh?" he looked up defensively, quite annoyed that Spock had thought he would actually be able to hold an intellectual discussion on something that Jim hardly knew anything about. His response was rather vague, he admitted that, but despite that it was still one that was truthful.

His irritated nerves fell flat on their face however when he saw the sincerity ingrained into every aspect of Spock's face. His expression turned confused. "Are you for real?"

Spock raised an eyebrow at this. "Though many would no doubt dispute this, in my personal opinion, the Bible is not able to have any decisive opinion put upon it. If this occurs the words lose their vitality and pure uniqueness. There must always be, within our minds, a land of the unknown. If this were not so, then what would spur us to go forward in search of answers and uncover it?" he asked. "With certainty may come security, though following behind that can easily come inactivity."

Jim blinked.

"...oh," he settled on finally, looking down at the green crinkled book and running his hand across it. He frowned thinking over the words. "Well, thanks I guess."

"It was merely an observation."

Jim chuckled quietly. "Reason, observation, and experience; the holy trinity of science," he said chuckling again. "That's pretty much you in a nut shell Spock."

Spock looked at him curiously.

"It's a quote" he explained, shrugging. "Can't remember who from exactly."

"I see."

A silence fell, but it was by no means uncomfortable as Jim would have thought. He really had to stop casting aspersions on everything, it really wasn't healthy. Think positive Jim, he told himself, don't be a hypochondriac. He looked up, moving his eyes over the unfamiliar features of the room. He really should be getting back to his own and to get some sleep he thought, sighing. _And_ allow Spock to get some rest of his own, he couldn't forget that. He still felt bad about it. Jim could just imagine the expression on his face when he had walked into the room, however long ago it was, and saw him there....

He didn't suppose there were security cameras in the quarters?

He pushed that thought away as two stupid to even comprehend and turn to the side, his intent to bid his first officer farewell, though not wanting to truly go.

He looked up and the words all but died on his lips as he saw that the Vulcan was gazing at him and seemed strangely uncertain about something. Jim looked at him questionably tilting his head slightly. Spock seemed to take this as a 'go ahead' signal.

"You may decline to answer if you wish... "Jim's expression turned expectant. "...but what was the primary need behind your previous action?" Spock asked, looking at him closely. Jim's eyebrows rose.

"You mean hugging you and all?" Spock nodded and Jim shrugged. "I don't know. I guess I just needed the warmth," he said, the memory of Spock's heart beating against his side coming back to him as he did so. He instantly felt warm and relished in the feeling. He didn't realise just how cryptic and kind of stupid the remark was until Spock actually replied to it.

"That is why Starfleet has thermostat temperature settings installed to each room, Jim."

The statement was so sincere that he couldn't help but laugh. "No Spock," he said, looking over at the Vulcan and shaking his head. Spock's eyebrows rose at his dismissal and the corners of his mouth turned down ever so slightly in a sign of confusion.

"What else can your comment imply?"

Jim moved to lean against the head rest of the bed, bending a leg in front of him onto the mattress and letting his body relax, resting the Bible in his lap. He then stared at Spock intently. "I didn't mean that I needed just _physical_ warmth," he said, waving his hands in a 'so and so' gesture at Spock. "I meant I needed the _life_ that came with it."

Spock stilled and tilted his head slightly. "I am uncertain as to your meaning."

Jim sighed. How could he put this for a logical guy as was his First Officer?

He breathed in, an idea forming in his mind and leant forward slightly. "Ok, well, I don't like the cold, you know that, right?" Spock inclined his head. "Yeah, well try to imagine me walking into an absolutely freezing cold, and I mean _freezing cold_, room which didn't hold any source of heat whatsoever. Nothing, nada...," he said slicing his hand through the space between them. "What happens?"

Though the answer was as about as obvious as fluoro coloured clothing, Jim shuddered,why not do a bit of Q and A while they were at it anyway?

"Since you are the only object emitting heat from the surface of your skin this makes you significantly warmer than the room, a fact which is already known to us however. This means that, in all likelihood and unless prevented, the heat energy inside your body will be transferred to the room, as your body attempts to uselessly heat it, in such the same way as when an object you hold becomes warmer as your body temperature is transferred to make the object the same as your body's homeostatic environment. You will get progressively colder and if you were present in such an environment for an extended period you may likely suffer medical conditions known commonly as frostbite or -"

"I would have settled for 'you get cold'." Jim said, jumping in before dust started to collect, and looked at him strangely trying not to smile.

Spock stopped and blinked at him, mouth slightly open and looking just the least put out, his eyes flicking down to the hoplessly restrained smile and then back up again. Jim watched this with amusement. He had never seen his First Officer speechless before. It was pretty funny actually. No one had probably cut him off before though. People were usually too busy going 'huh' - styled nicely as a question, and waiting for their mind to catch up with his.

He waited silently and patiently as the Vulcan rearranged his features into something more...well, more _Vulcan_ like, until speaking again.

"Not that I don't appreciate the lecture and all."

An eyebrow quirked upwards. "You may continue Jim."

Jim=1 / Spock=0

He grinned.

"Fine," he said, and then almost instantly stopped, his mouth slightly open for the words which never came. Shouldn't he be just a tad bit more unconformable with the idea of spilling his guts to the Vulcan? Shouldn't he? _Shouldn't he!?_

Jim closed his mouth and frowned, and then stared down at the little book in his hands. Stared and stared and stared, as if somehow it would give him an answer.

Ah, what the heck.

He breathed in, turning his face to look again at his silent listener. "Now replace that cold with the oh so depressing idea of death..." he continued rather hurridly. He quickly looked down to examine his hands...

But not before he saw Spoke become incredibly still.

"...and now imagine that same effect occurring, the way that the cold sucks away heat, but with death seeming to suck away the life, the _warmth_."

He knew he didn't have to provide a more detailed explanation for what brought this sort of thinking on. Spock had seen vid links of the ritual rooms. The only difference was that he only knew what it looked like, not _felt_, which was, if anything, much stronger than the visual stimulus.

"So do you kind of get it?" he asked, almost talking to himself now, his gaze locked intently onto the blue blanket he was sitting on. "Do you see what I mean when I say I needed the life?"

It was then, when no reply came, that he realised that Spock hadn't said anything for quite awhile and he looked up confused and maybe a slightly bit worried. Spock was staring at him, gaze soft, something almost like sorrow flitting behind the eyes. Jim leaned forward, concerned, his hand instinctively reaching out before he could stop it."Spock?"

"I believe I do Jim," came the reply, almost husky, and now he could make out that it was defiantly sorrow in those eyes. Jim dropped his hand. There was no mistaking it. He frowned, wondering what was invoking such a response in his otherwise neutral Vulcan.

As if somehow realising that he was emoting, Spock averted his gaze, before breathing in and speaking once again. "Though she may have had a cooler body temperature than my own physically, my mother also seemed to burn with an unsurpassed fire and passion through our link." He looked back up and the dark gaze was wet from the slight moisture that seemed to be now present there. Jim stopped, shocked. "Such heat and warmth I had always believed to be the core representation of her katra, her _life."_

Jim stared...

...and stared.

He didn't know what to say. _Damnit _he _really_ didn't_._ He had always been uncomfortable with the whole emotional scene, a big factor into why he usually adamantly avoided the- because he never knew exactly what to do. He had the bad habit of making up really bad jokes to break the tense atmosphere and that just seemed to make everything _worse_. He hardly ever went to funerals, going to great lengths to say his last farewells to the deceased prior to the time when they were actually buried.

It also took a long time for someone to crack _his _own defences to actually get to the emotional reality inside him as well. It usually required either a hell of a lot of booze or a pretty horrific event, at which point Bones then came into action, listening to his sorry-ass self talk about emotions and crap and usually adding his own thoughts to the scene- usually something concerning Joanna, his daughter, or his estranged wife, because at that point he also would be completely drunk alongside Jim.

But this was _Spock_, which funnily enough and without consciously thinking it, meant that he wasn't going to go get drunk and he wasn't just going to walk out either.

And so, putting bad jokes aside- because it really wasn't the time- Jim went with his gut instinct instead, wiping the disbelieving expression of his face, and succumbing to the feeling. It seemed to always do him good when he was in other situations that he had no clue about, so why not now?

His gut instinct was telling him to simply comfort Spock.

And so that's what he did.

Feeling the roles being distinctly emotionally reversed from before, Jim's arms reached out and encircled his friend, one supporting Spock's back and holding his waist and one crossing over the Vulcan's chest to hold his warm shoulder. He paid no attention to the bible as it fell to the ground from his legs, landing with a _thunk_, and laying open at a random page. He drew Spock to him, lifting his chin to tuck the dark haired head against his front. He could feel slight tremors shifting through the warm body and he pulled his arms tighter, closing his eyes and breathing out a sigh, making a few dark strands of hair flutter, before they settled politely back into place. Pale hands were balled tightly in his black shirt, twisting the material into a dismal array of creases and lines, probably a visual representation of Spock's own inner turmoil.

Spock never talked about this sort of stuff with him. Never. It just wasn't what happened. They had really only known each other for a few months; four at the most and maybe even less for all he knew- time seemed to become disjointed on a starship after awhile. For quite a lot of people that would normally have been enough time to discern whether someone was their friend or not. _Normally._ However, Spock _really_ was one convoluted son of a bitch and definitely not normal. He couldn't just be one straight road, oh no. _His_ friendly neighbourhood Vulcan had to be an interweaving complex of multiple roads combined with intersections, dead ends and traffic lights telling you when you could go and not.

And road blocks- a hell of a lot of road blocks.

Such a thing made it really kind of hard then when you tried to figure the guy out, which was in turn made even harder while he was speaking elaborately intricate sentences that made you wonder when your brain would melt from the overload.

He couldn't blame their current, sometimes clumsy-_ is it going to be awkward if I do or say this_- relationship all on Spock though. Jim himself, though he wouldn't admit it to anyone, was just about as tight lipped as his first officer concerning certain things. He may come across as the talkative, say whatever kind of guy, but with all things said and done, you just would not be able to get him to talk about certain subjects- period.

Unless of course a lot of afore mentioned drinking was involved.

But since when did Spock drink?

So then, in all reality, if you put the two of them together, in a room, with absolutely no intoxicating substances within sight, and tried to get them to be all touchy and feely about themselves, nothing _too_ spectacular was _really_ going to happen. The reason being that they were both as bad as each other sometimes, he thought.

Jim paused.

Then again, he _could_ get touchy if pushed...

...but something was telling him he really didn't want to get strangled again either.

It was strange then, how all those barriers between the two of them seemed to have been completely wiped without him realising it _and_ all within a matter of hours. He could easily blame it on his sleep deprived and emotionally turbulent mind doing mental back flips and circus acts on him, making him do weird and somewhat eccentric things such as crossing through Spock's personal –_do not touch or die_- bubble to hug him, and pushing and prodding the Vulcan until he relented. He could place the blame there, leave the room to go back to his own and move on and forget about this whole thing. Yes, he could...

...but did he want to?


	4. Chapter Four

Note: _School truly is disruptive to ones muse & thankyou for reading everybody..._

"What was she like?" Jim asked, the words coming unbidden to his lips. He then could have kicked himself for asking when he felt the warm body in his arms stiffen slightly. Jeez, trust him to continue the most uncomfortable topic for the guy. He really wasn't that crash hot at emotional and sentimental scenes was he? It made him feel slightly like a cold hearted son of a bitch sometimes, but seriously, what was he supposed to do? Jim doubted that the Enterprise ran 101 lessons on how to not say the wrong thing at the wrong time. Usually that sort of a thing was just an ingrained aspect in people's personalities and didn't have to be ordered, packaged and delivered to the needer. Most of the people he worked with currently had it- he'd seen it on numerous missions, when comforting was needed when the expeditions went absolutely haywire and downhill really fast. Jim had it to a degree, he realised, but it was mainly concerned with what to say to an angry warlord of a newfound planet to convince him and his bloodthirsty army not to kill him and his crew. It was either usually a major sucking up session or a real pissing off one – whatever happened to float said warlord's boat. He could be quite persuasive when he wanted to be, in both situations, and he _was_ thankful for it, make no mistake. It just would have been nice to have bit of leeway where all of it was concerned in other departments...

He couldn't deny the fact that he _was_ curious about Spock's mum, though, despite how politically or 'emotionally' incorrect it may be to ask about it at the present time. Hell, she would off have to have been pretty extraordinary to put up with a colony full of Vulcan's all day long. Jim was sure he would go insane within hours; what with constantly having to suppress emotion and always needing to figure out what each of them were saying and translating it out of the vague and over complicated language they used into normal Standard.

So yeah, curious he was, but such a fact didn't exactly make it any less easy for the guy: which was why Jim should have leashed his runaway mind to a pole before it got away from him. He didn't even know why Spock had brought the subject up to begin with anyway, since he'd never really come across as the _sharing- caring_ kind before. There were the people who were the- _it helps to talk about it_- ones and others who liked to work it out by themselves. Jim would have thought Spock would be in the latter group but hell, for all he knew, the Vulcan could be in some random off shooting side category that no-one had ever thought about before

Greif was handled in many different ways, Jim surmised.

And it wasn't that he was complaining about it either, despite the apparent and unexpected unusualness of the act. In fact, it was kind of nice to think his otherwise tight-lipped first officer would do so. That he would confine in him to some extent was pretty awesome considering they weren't _exactly_ friends at this point in time and with both of their tendencies to not really be all touchy and feely. Jim frowned slightly. Ok, sure, he_ had_ hugged the guy and spilled his guts to him only a few minutes ago but really, he _had_ needed to do so to some extent and Spock _had_ been the closest in the vicinity and a willing victim.

Well, he had _seemed_ willing at the time. Perhaps this whole thing would turn into one huge mess and neither of them would know how to behave around each other from now on? If that was so then the _Enterprise _would, without a doubt, just stop functioning properly. For one, it was the captains and first officer's prerogative to have an efficient working relationship to allow a smooth running of the ship- something that had been working towards for a while now and only just started to achieve. For another, Spock all but saved Jim from a mass drowning in report readings, mission briefings, Starfleet update and production sheets, statistic data from the numerous departments aboard ship, diplomatic dignitaries, and more, on a daily basis. It was almost sad how much work the guy did. Sure, he was the first officer _and_ the science officer, but such a fact didn't directly mean that he had to spend every breathing second looking at a PADD and getting those really bad migraines which Jim always got if he looked at the small digital screens for an extended period. He couldn't refute the fact that Spock was a bloody life saver though - a life saver with apparently a limitless supply of floating apparatus and breathing equipment.

Jim knew, even when he was thinking it, that he was overreacting to an extreme extent and he suppressed the urge to slap himself out of the near mortality kick he was presently in. Spock would not let a certain amount of awkwardness to affect his work ethics and neither would Jim himself. They weren't both giggling teenage girls or something. And yet...

His annoying and almost uncontrollable thought process back flipped again.

...the fact still remained though, that the guy had let himself be hugged.

_Let himself_.

Okay sure, Jim _had_ cornered him and hadn't _really_give him much of a choice but still, he would've thought that the planets would align, the sun explode, fire would reign down upon the Earth and jelly would somehow actually be nailed to a tree before that sort of physical contact would occur between them as easy as it did between him and Bones.

He paused. Then again, he had all but cried into the guy's shirt after all- a thing which was quite _friendly-ish_ all things considered-_ and_ Spock himself had broached the topic of his mother with him.

That actually sounded morethan just friendly-_ish_ to him personally.

His eyebrows lowered and his frown became more pronounced.

Ok, so why the hell _weren't_ they good friends already!?

_Stupid, bloody emotional buffers and damn them all to-_

His wayward thought s were pulled to the present as his arms began to shift as the warm body beneath them started to move. He let them slide away and fall back to his sides and then watched almost warily as Spock slowly rose from his slumped position, not certain what to expect. Spock's face became a smooth canvas as he composed himself, his shoulders straightening and tension easing from the lines and curves of his body. It was actually a very fascinating process to watch, Jim realised, too steal a phrase. It was like all the emotion that had been brimmed to the top and come close to overflowing was just disappearing down some sort of mental drain that had just appeared....

...except something much more eloquent sounding.

Jim really sucked at metaphors at times.

It wasn't until a few seconds later that the Vulcan's eyes came to once again rest on Jim, a neutral and safer shadow veiled across their surfaces, muting what little expression that may have been there from his view.

"I would prefer not to follow the course of that discussion Captain."

Jim inwardly winced at Spock's words, the rejection stinging, despite knowing that it would likely occur before it even had. The shut-off response bit into him for a moment before he was finally able to push it aside as a pointless feeling. He hadn't had any expectations when he had asked the side ball of a question. In all respects, that was all it was really- a question. His reaction was unnecessary and impulsive. He shouldn't expect his first officer to answer such a personal question anyway.

It was _just_ a question.

So why did he feel like a brick which had recently been pushed from a wall had just been cemented right back in place, mortar and lime included?

He forced a smile to make its way onto his face, pushing the thought and the remains of whatever illogical feelings he had had previously away from his mind's surface and shrugged nonchalantly, hardly noticing that he moved away from the Vulcan too slouch against the wall behind him.

"Sure, whatever," Jim said and waved his hand indifferently, casting his eyes downward before realising that such an action wasn't exactly keeping with his casual facade. He forced himself to look up at his first officer instead and blue eyes proceeded to meet dark brown. "It was stupid to ask anyway," he continued, looking at the Vulcan. He shook his head and couldn't stop a single humourless laugh which escaped him. "It's not like we're the best of pals anyway."

He saw the slight tightening of skin around Spock's eyes, and quickly looked down; knowing his attempt at casualness had just fallen apart with that last line which held not enough nonchalance and a just a bit too much of a nuance for disappointment. Oh well, Jim thought, it didn't really matter. When it came to his first officer, he pretty much felt transparent half the time as it was anyway. What was so different now?

With his eyes down, he didn't see the way Spock's hand rose almost tentatively outwards; how his mouth opened and a slight breath was drawn inward, in preparation of the words to come. There was no time to because as he did, the distinct buzz of the door command sounded, a sign that someone was requesting admittance to the room, and the action made it fall just as silent and unnoticed back down to the bed and the words never breach their restraints.

"Spock?" a voice asked, a southern accent lingering faintly behind the word. Jim looked up to stare at the door in confusion.

Why the hell would his CMO be wanting to see Spock of all people?

"If you're in there and just can't be bothered answering the door which, frankly, is kind of obnoxious of you and not at all good for your wonderfully lovely and compassionate image which you just radiate serenely so very often," the voice continued. "Then...then can you just answer the freaking door _anyway_ because I'm not going to stand out here and talk to a grey inanimate door for any longer because it's company is not exactly entertaining. That's actually kind of ironic though because I will probably miss it however, when you _do_ eventually open it and I'll have to talk to you instead, a prospect which though considerably life shortening is undeniably unavoidable at this time due to circumstances."

There was a silence whereby Jim couldn't help the urge to roll his eyes at his friends ranting and grin, feeling lighter It was funny how Bones had that effect on him. It was probably a contributing factor behind why he had zeroed in on him from the beginning. There was just something about the older guy that made you feel better about things.

Maybe his profession had started to project outwards now and was tuning into some sort of weird warped six sense which Jim could pick up on some equally strange frequency?

Jim wouldn't be surprised. It was general knowledge that his brain didn't work the way most did.

Jim chuckled quietly and feeling just the slightest bit evil, he put his finger to his lips. He felt like having some fun – if to get away from other delicate topics-, and if that meant messing with Bones' head then he wasn't about to argue with fate.

Actually, he was usually the first one in line, but that was an irrelevant fact.

Spock's eyebrows rose but he remained silent at the signal, sitting lightly on the side of the bed. The command for the door came again adn Jim smiled.

"Okay look, you pointy eared bastard, I get it: you don't like me. But look on the bright side though- its mutual! I don't like you either. I thought we had gotten over that particular detail and were getting on with our lives and happily loathing each other?..."

Neither in the room spoke.

"...Alright you hobgoblin, be that way. Can you at least just tell me if you've seen Jim? I'm doing psyhc eval's for everyone who went planetside to Arcaous and the _responsible _and _mature_ Captain, being as he is, has skipped out."

Spock looked at him sharply, eyebrows lowered now. Jim knew what he was thinking - his first officer was a stickler for healthlyness- and he shook his head insistently in response, waving his hands in front of him, dismissing the idea silently. It wasn't a ruse either. He did actually feel better about all that to a degree. He would have to remember to go hug his First Officer more often from now on, especially when he felt like crap.

Yeah, like_ that_ was going to happen often.

Jim grinned and then spoke loudly. "Calm done Bonesy," he said theatrically, knowing, when he said it, that calling the doctor such a name was going to come back to bite him at a later date- probably in the form of a hypo. "He's coming already," he continued, jerking his head toward the door at the Vulcan next to him.

Spock didn't move.

Huh?

Well that put a slight hiccup in his intended evil plan. Jim frowned and watched as the Vulcan pulled back slightly, discontinuing his examination of him and quirk an eyebrow instead in a silent question.

Jim rolled his eyes at his first officer's obvious lack of comprehension,- wasn't this guy supposed to be a genius?- shaking his head in mock exasperation, before gesturing at the door pointedly, miming turning a door handle.

Which was really kind of stupid, all things considered, because since when did they have _door handles_ on a starship?

Spock, who still seemed to not be getting the full picture, only blinked at him, head tilted quizzically. Jim then continued to watch as the Vulcan then slowly raised a hand and ...

...gestured also to the door in a very clear single of: 'go ahead' to him instead.

Jim's eyes widened, his mouth falling open.

Oh, that's _so_ not funny.

_The bloody Vulcan was messing with him._

He shut his gaping mouth, because really, such a thing wasn't a good look, and glared at the conniving Vulcan in front of him.

"Man, it's your room!" he couldn't help but hiss. "Go on!" He jerked his thumb over his shoulder to point to the door.

Spock continued to look at him, and Jim swore that he could see the beginnings of smile on his face.

A _mischievous_ smile.

Oh, no way.

"Dude, I _so _outrank you."

Okay, sure it was low and not exactly creative, but _come on_, it works...

...99.99% of the time.

Luckily Spock seemed to sigh at this and relent, rising fluidly from the bed and moving toward the door as Jim grinned wickedly. The silence, which he had not realised had fallen on the opposite side of the door since his first words, broke.

"Jim?"

He rolled his eyes. "No," he replied cynically, shifting to lie back down, his hands behind his head and eyes on the ceiling. "It's you're conscious speaking," he couldn't help but add, just as Spock pushed the button for the door.

"What in the _blue blazes_ are y-"

The door slid open, cutting the words off and flooding light into the semi dark room, casting a distorted and elongated Spock shaped shadow against the far wall. Jim blinked at the change, letting his eyes adjust.

"Doctor," was all the greeting Spock supplied.

From the tone of his voice, Jim new that his first officer was giving Bones his best Vulcan expressionless, give-nothing-away, neutral look. Jim pretty much felt the glare the Doctor threw at Spock- or the heat from it at least, before he inched around the commander to look suspiciously into the room, his familiar shape also becoming elongated and appearing on the wall, darkened and almost mysterious in nature. Jim saw him glance around, probably allowing time for his own eyes to correct. It was several seconds before he saw the object of his searching.

"Hey!" Jim said from the bed, mouth wide with a smile.

"Oh god..." He saw Bones grab his face and groan. "I thought it was all just some horrible, _horrible_ hallucination."

Jim laughed.

"Do I even want to know?" he asked between fingers which he had spread open and was looking out from. Jim laughed.

"Well..." he said, drawing the word out and then grinning evilly. "I could tell you _all_ about it" he said speculatively. "It makes for a pretty entertaining story."

Which it did, but just not in the way that Jim knew for _certain_ that Bones would think it was. And what Bones was thinking definitely wasn't PG rated.

It was, after all, _Jim_ he was thinking about.

A horrified expression slid onto the doctors face and he visibly took a step back, raising his hands as if warding off the idea "Oh, sweet Jesus, no! God, man, don't you have a soul?

Jim laughed sitting up and swinging his legs of from the bed. He stood. "Just-"

The words were halted when he proceeded to fall forward onto the floor as his legs collapsed beneath him. He grunted in pain, cursing the temporary numbness in the limbs that he had forgotten about to hell and back, as he hit the floor hard, the action jolting him and making his head spin sickeningly.

'Jim!"

The word had occurred simultaneously and from two different sources when he had landed and the next minute hands were rolling him over and he was looking into two sets of worried eyes as the two men knelt beside him.

"Captain?"

Jim grinned up lazily at the two, somehow not really caring that he had just made himself look like complete idiot. Because he couldn't let the advantage go to waste, and possibly because he also had a mild concussion and wasn't incomplete control of all mental functions, he reached up with an exclamation of 'group hug!' and grabbed them both by the shoulders and pulled them down to his level, hooking his arms around their necks in the process to secure them in place.

Gosh, he really _was_ all touchy and feely when he wanted to be. Bones struggled for a moment before realising that though Jim may be lying on the ground with some form of head injury, he still had a strong grip regardless and wasn't planning to let him go. He stopped resisting the action and Jim chuckled.

After a moment Bones then spoke, his voice muffled by a black clad shoulder. "Jim?"

Jim released him and looked expectantly at the doctor as he moved to sit on the floor and look at him dubiously. "Yeah?"

"Can I ask you a few questions?" It almost looked like Bones was treading on ice.

Jim frowned. "Sure."

It was at that point that he realised he was still holding down the warm body that was starting to become more and more familiar to him as time passed and these sort of interactions were increasing in rate. He actually contemplated just keeping it there for a bit longer but quickly reassessed the situation and decided it probably wasn't the best thing to do. He let go of the Vulcan, though it was a hard thing to do, moving his arms to the back of his head instead and stretching his legs out, trying to rid them of what would be a particularly bad case of pins and needles he was slowly developing. Jim then relaxed onto the surprisingly comfortable floor as Spock followed the Doctors example and also sat on the floor, legs crossed. He looked down at him, eyes dark and indescribable.

"It would be really great if you could answer truthfully the first time round."

Jim raised an eyebrow, looking back over at Bones. "...Okay?"

"Have you been drinking?"

Jim rolled his eyes and smirked.

"No"

"You sure there, Jimmy?"

Jim looked at him sardonically. "I'm sorry Bones, did you just say 'answer truthfully' or was that my overactive imagination?"

Bones rolled his eyes "Okay, okay. No need to bite my head off." Jim snorted. "Okay. Have you knocked your head hard lately?"

"Nope."

Bones looked thoughtful."Well how about softly then? It really wouldn't make much of difference I suppose, since it's you."

"Hey!"

Bones just looked at him expectantly.

"No, Bones, I haven't." He grumbled. "What's with the twenty questions anyway?"

"Oh, no reason in particular," the doctor said and shrugged nonchalantly. " I just want to, you know, see if you've gone insane and all." Bones waved his hand in a 'so and so' gesture. "It's not that important."

"This is your idea of a psyhc evaluation?" Jim asked incredulously.

Bones looked at him unimpressed. "Well, I _did_ send a transmission to your room a few hours ago. You were _supposed_ to get it when you woke up and come down to the sickbay. So far I've seen everyone _but_ you," he said levelling a finger at him accusingly. "So I'm kind of improvising here since the mandatory questions are in my office."

Jim shifted and frowned at the offending digit, thinking that there was way too many stressed syllables in that sentence to be good for him. "Well, I haven't really been in my room for awhile Bones." He didn't know how long he'd been in Spock's quarters for but he surmised it was for quite a while if he had fallen asleep before the Vulcan had gotten of his shift five hours before finding him.

Bones blinked and then planted his face in his hands, groaning. "Well of _course_ you haven't" he said before looking up and glaring at him. "You've just been in here doing God knows what, for who knows how long."

Jim had to laugh at that because he hadn't even been thinking along_ those_ lines when he had replied. It _was_ kind of ironic as well since, if there was a God, He would know exactly what Jim _had_ been doing since it kind of had a lot to do with the holy guy in the first place. The expression on Bones' face was too priceless however to properly correct the incredibly large misconception he was currently under. He simply grinned. He would eventually, he thought, turning his head to glance at Spock who was looking impassively at the both of them- just, not yet. His First Officer quirked an eyebrow when he noticed Jim's gaze and the grin grew wider.

He was actually in on a ruse with Spock.

Against Bones.

Wow.

He looked back at the doctor who had watched this interaction and now looked, if anything, like all his previous notions of the world had just gotten set alight, burned and the ashes dissolved in acid.

Jim decided to give the guy a bit of closure. "Don't worry," he said, because really, he wasn't _that_ cruel and heartless or _soulless_ as Bones liked to think at times. "It's not what you think."

His friend's face went blank. "Oh, Really?" he asked blandly and maybe just slightly too calmly; almost like the quiet before the storm.

Jim shrugged nonchalantly. "All I'm saying is to get your mind out of the gutter."

He saw Spock look at him out from the corner of his eye; eyebrows lowered and a frown upon his face, obviously not understanding the sentiment. Bones however, ran his hands through his hair and Jim watched as the good doctor all but gave up on him

What, only _now_?

"God, jeez, whatever you say. Are you going to come down to the bay now that I found you or will I have to sedate you and then drag you along?

"Only if I get too bring Spock."

Bones stared at him.

"Hey," Jim said, defensively. "Unlike you, I don't mind his company," he said, crossing his arms, an action which felt really weird to do when you were lying down. He did like Spock's company though- he was starting to realise that lately even though their building relationship was still touch and go. Well, more so in the last couple of hours really, but _meh,_ Jim was never one to be picky. "And anyway" he continued, turning to look at his first officer as if sizing him up. He then turned back to Bones. "He's kind of like a big overly-warm teddy bear," he said, just for the guy's benefit. The doctor continued to stare at him, now more than likely trying to connect _teddy bear_ with _Vulcan_ and not getting positive results.

A thought then came to Jim and he turned his head to the opposite side and looked at Spock uncertainly

"Unless of course there was something else you...uh, you were going to do... " he asked Spock haltingly, unsure as to whether the idea of going for a road trip to the sickbay constituted as a good time for him. Jim would have run a mile if someone had proposed the idea to him, but who knows what the Vulcan did in his spare time.

When he actually had _any_.

Spock _would_ have something better to do other than babysit him all the time though. He definitely would. Yeah, like _sleeping..._or...resting_..._or having time which was not taken up by the presence of a crazy captain who has stability issues- have _alone_ time. Exactly what he should be doing at the present time if Jim wasn't, well...._Jim._

"If my presence is required for you to cooperate with Doctor McCoy's assessment then I do not."

Ha.

Pure. Sweet. _Victory._

The instantaneous feeling of happiness was all but squashed however when the words really sunk in. Oh, ok, so Spock was only coming along to see that Jim _behaves._ He knew his reputation for avoiding sickbay preceded him, but seriously, _come on._

He now he felt like a five-year old.

Brilliant.

He whirled that idea around for a moment before mentally sighing. Oh well, it could be worse in all respect.

"It sure does," he finally said in answer to a question which was more statement than query. Just for the heck of it he then grinned cockily up at the two men.

The Doctor it seemed had come to realise he would never be able to find the mad backwater Jim was currently occupying as it took a whole new level of undiscovered insanity specially found in people named James T. Kirk to do so. So, instead of even attmepting to argue, he threw his arms up in a sign of defeat, sighing heavily.

"Whatever..." he muttered. "And you say that it isn't what I think..."

Jim smiled, ignoring the comment and stuck out his hand, letting Bones grab it and pull him to his feet. His head spun for a second and he felt a warm hand on his elbow which steadied him as he started to tilt slightly backward. The dizziness quickly dissipated though a throb on his head remained from where he had hit the floor. He then grinned, taking advantage of the closeness of his First Officer to sling an arm around the warm narrow shoulders.

Always pushing. Always prodding.

Maybe it was the only way?

He hoped it was.

Because _God damnit_, he was good at that sort of a thing!

He casually hung from the Vulcan's side for a moment, connected from shoulder to hip and grinning almost like a maniac. He then pointed dramatically into the air and put on his best superior air.

"To the sickbay," he cried with as much flair as an actor performing Shakespeare and strutted forward to exist the Vulcan's quarters, the movement forcing Spock to follow along next to him in a rather jilted manner, a contrast to his usual almost feline grace.

Bones, an innocent bystander, as he sometimes liked to think, to the lunacy that was J. rolled his eyes as his friend did so. He had learned a long time ago that when things happened to be going his way to simply shut up and just accept the craziness which often followed such luck...

He walked forward, following Jim outside, and letting the mechanical doors slide shut behind him.

Such a time happened to be now.


End file.
